


The Waiting Game

by Bulletproof_love



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Smut, Developing Relationship, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Greg is Sweet, Love, M/M, Mycroft Feels, Mycroft Holmes Has Feelings, Mycroft is a Softie, POV Greg, POV Greg Lestrade, Romantic Friendship, Strangers to Lovers, True Love, Waiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:47:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25633801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bulletproof_love/pseuds/Bulletproof_love
Summary: Greg is willing to wait as long as Mycroft needs.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Comments: 8
Kudos: 111





	The Waiting Game

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tobeconspicuous](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tobeconspicuous/gifts).



It had started on Christmas Day when they were both leaving 221b Baker Street. They had left within seconds of each other, Greg holding open the door for Sherlock’s older brother as they stepped out into the street. The scent of rain was in the air and Greg could see the large droplets plopping into the puddles on the pavement. He politely ushered Mycroft underneath the awning of the café next door while the other man waited for his town car.

The two of them stood side by side, Mycroft’s gaze fixated on the downpour as Greg’s watched him for a moment. He noticed that the taller man’s pale skin looked slightly flush, that there was a warm pink glow in his cheeks. The edges of his mouth were tipping up into the tiniest hint of a smile before he tilted his head to meet Greg’s eyes.

There had always been an attraction between them. It felt like electric pulsing through Greg’s skin whenever they were within close proximity of each other. He bit his lip, that leviathan of reckless heat surging through him as he imagined stripping off every single layer of that tailored midnight blue suit. Mycroft’s gaze met his, he could see that thrill, that hunger reflected in his eyes. Mycroft moistened his lips, they shone under the light from the streetlamp, looking pink and ample.

Greg hadn’t been able to wait any more. He simply swept forward and kissed Mycroft as if his life depended on it. Long fingers thread through his hair, tugging at the roots and pulling him even closer to his prize.

Afterwards he remembered flashes of the journey back to Mycroft’s apartment but that wasn’t important, it was what had occurred in the bedroom later that evening that mattered the most. The smattering of freckles across Mycroft’s shoulders, the noises he made as Greg explored them with his tongue, kissing each one with reverence. He loved the sound of his name on Mycroft’s lips as he straddled Greg’s waist, riding his cock, those vibrant blue eyes fixated on him. He hadn’t been able to look away, he’d gotten lost in that fathomless sea of vulnerability as that overwhelming tidal wave of pleasure claimed him.

Making love to Mycroft that night had been the start of something. He recognised the blossom of warmth in his chest, its petals unfurling as they lay bodies entangled, fingers entwined. In the morning neither of them knew what to say about it, they had crossed over a boundary and neither knew how to navigate the turbulent waters.

They carried on about their lives, but things were different now. He felt it in the little touches Mycroft bestowed upon him, the slight tug on his sleeve, the gentle press of a palm on his lower back. The casual meals to discuss Sherlock’s progress always ended up with them talking about other things. Greg learned how caring Mycroft really was despite his reputation. The taller man seemed to smile more these days, his laughter often ringing pleasantly in Greg’s ears.

It didn’t take Greg too long to realise he was courting Mycroft. The initial event that had triggered their relationship had been too fast, too soon. It was far too much for a man who wasn’t well versed in his own emotions. Mycroft was a man of rules and Greg was happy to play the waiting game for as long as he needed.


End file.
